


Next Time

by keeves



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Rimming, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:58:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeves/pseuds/keeves
Summary: Thor and Quill take a moment for themselves on Contraxia.*MILD AVENGERS: ENDGAME SPOILERS*





	Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> endgame got me feeling some typa way

Thor throws Quill against the wall of a room at the motel on Contraxia, its thin metal layers rattling loudly against each other, creaking beneath Quill’s weight as Thor presses his forearm into Quill’s chest. It’s unclear if this is his room or Quill’s—they hadn’t stopped to discuss on the way. Both of them had been far too focused on getting somewhere private as quickly as possible, hoping to avoid the prying eyes and ears of their shipmates. They’re making a lot of noise, though, so the idea of privacy is little more than a balm to soothe whatever paranoid thoughts either of them may be having. Out of sight, out of mind—that’s the idea.

While Thor is pinning Quill in place, Quill shoves his hands into Thor’s hair, squeezing Thor’s skull between his palms. Thor grunts and rolls his forearm up to the hollow of Quill’s throat, baring his teeth in a feral little grin as Quill wheezes, his fingers flexing against Thor’s scalp. “If you think you can—” Thor starts, cut off suddenly as Quill pulls Thor forward, their noses and teeth making uncomfortable contact before they kiss and Thor pulls his arm out from between their chests in favor of grabbing the sides of Quill’s face. They kiss like they are hungry, and they are, in a metaphorical sense. The tension between them has been building since even before Thor decided to tag along after the Battle of Earth; since the Guardians had plucked him out of the cold vacuum of space. They didn’t exactly have an outlet then.

They do now.

Thor bites Quill’s lip and Quill’s hands move to take fistfuls of Thor’s jacket—leather, well-worn, taken from someone somewhere that doesn’t matter anymore—and he throws him off balance, spinning them around and sending Thor crashing against the wall in turn. The sound reverberates. They are not being quiet, nor do they care, but Thor is going to act like it anyway.

“If you’re not careful, Quill, everyone in the motel will know what we’re up to,” he says, cracking a grin with a little more humanity this time.

“Shut up,” Quill says, leaning in to kiss Thor again, missing when Thor tilts his head to laugh and getting a faceful of scruff instead. Thor takes his opportunity to press his nose against Quill’s neck and swipe him with his tongue, putting a hand on top of Quill’s head to try and push his head back for easier access. Quill makes a noise of indignation but is quick to give in, his mouth hanging open as Thor kisses his throat, hands roaming over Thor’s shoulders and freshly shaved head. He had been so pissed the first time Thor had cut his hair short again. Short hair was  _ his _ thing, never mind if Nebula had scoffed and said that most humanoid men wore their hair in pretty much the exact same way. Now, though, Quill likes how it feels under his palms. He grabs what he can of the hair on the top of Thor’s head and pulls him back, going in for another kiss, hitting his target this time.

Thor groans, licking into Quill’s open mouth and beginning to pull at his jacket, sending them both into a frenzy of discarding their upper layers all while trying to keep their mouths in contact, their breaths coming out in sharp pants, interrupted at random by muffled moans. Both jackets are on the floor by the time the backs of Quill’s knees hit the edge of the bed, leaving him wondering how he and Thor got from there to here. He loses his balance and falls back onto the bed, leaning his weight on his palms as he looks up to see Thor pulling his shirt over his head. Usually he would make fun of Thor for being not-quite-so chiseled as he once was, but now, he can’t bring himself to do so. His mouth feels dry.

“Are you going to make me take it off myself?” Thor asks, gesturing to Quill’s shirt.

Quill opens and closes his mouth, his brow furrowing, his train of thought suddenly changing direction. “Woah, woah, woah. What’s going on here?” He says, putting one hand up between himself and Thor.

Thor pauses, a look of confusion coming over him. “We’re about to have sex?” He says, like he’s no longer sure of himself.

“Obviously!” Quill shoots back, suddenly panicked by the idea that Thor might think he didn’t want to fuck him. “I just mean, how?”

Thor squints at him for a moment before speaking. “You’re a virgin.” He states it like it’s a fact.

Quill waves his hands back and forth. “No! No, no, no way! How can you even think that? We’ve been living in the same ship together for like, six months, man!”

Thor shrugs, one hand coming up to run across the top of his head. He doesn’t have an answer. “Just,” Quill starts again, “Just—oh, fuck it.” He pulls his tee over his head as quickly as possible and throws one arm around Thor’s shoulders, hauling him downwards. Their chests press together and Quill thinks that maybe he feels some static electricity there, but he’s probably just being dramatic. Thor goes for Quill’s throat again, but Quill takes him by surprise, grabbing him by the shoulders and flipping them so he is on top. He brackets Thor against the bed with his thighs, leaning down and biting his collarbone as he presses his fingertips into Thor’s hips. Thor lets out a grunt and wraps his hands around Quill’s arms, trying to shove him off, presumably to get back on top of him, but Quill pushes him back down. He’s not quite back to his former physical prowess.

“Woah there,” Quill says, the corner of his mouth turning upwards, but then Thor goes for a different tactic, looping his arm around Quill’s midsection and using his shoulder to throw him to the side, rolling back on top of him.

“Ah-hah!” Thor crows, triumphant as he tries to wrestle Quill’s arms flat to the bed.

Quill pushes back, grimacing. “Come on, man!” He wraps his legs around Thor’s hips, trying to get more traction. Apparently, this was the wrong move, because Thor starts grinding between Quill’s legs, making him falter and moan, his eyes closing and his head falling back. Thor pins Quill’s wrists on either side of his head, bringing himself down so that their abdomens are aligned once again and putting his mouth right next to Quill’s ear.

“Maybe I’ll let you top next time,” he says in a low voice. Quill lets out a gasp in response, trying and failing to act like he isn’t excited by the prospect of a ‘next time.’ His dick is way too hard to convince Thor otherwise.

Thor sits up and twists around to untie his boots, Quill sitting up and bending awkwardly around him to do the same. They discard their shoes as quickly as they can, not without a fair amount of fumbling on both parts. Thor finishes before Quill does and tries to kiss him; Quill resigns himself to multitasking in order to prove to Thor that he can untie his boots with one hand while his eyes are closed and he is making out with a real-life god. When both boots are off, he cups Thor’s face in his hands and kisses him deeply, maybe with a little too much feeling, but Thor doesn’t seem to mind in the least. He moans into Quill’s mouth, one hand coming between the two of them to unbuckle Quill’s belt and open up his pants. Quill isn’t about to lose ground though, so he mirror’s Thor’s actions and makes it a race. He pulls Thor’s dick out faster than Thor can do the same to him, earning a surprised grunt. Quill is minutely displeased to find that Thor’s dick is bigger than his. He can tell from the feel alone.

“It’s not a race, Quill,” Thor grits out, as though he had read Quill’s mind. With his free hand, he pushes Quill’s head back down to the bed. Quill doesn’t offer a response, choosing instead to grab Thor by the belt and pull him upwards, both of them crawling and wiggling around on the bed until Quill’s head is on the pillow, Thor still hovering above him. Once they are situated, Quill wraps one hand around the back of Thor’s neck and the other around their cocks, giving an experimental tug. Thor moans, resting his forehead against Quill’s, the tips of their noses touching, both of them breathing the same air. When Quill starts pulling them both off with his dry hand, Thor breathes out a barely audible “Fuck,” sending a spark up Quill’s spine. Thor kisses him, his beard scraping pleasantly against Quill’s chin and upper lip and Quill is a little more thrilled than he’d ever care to admit. There are a lot of things happening right now that he wouldn’t care to admit.

The dry friction doesn’t do it for Quill for very long so he brings his palm up to spit in it, but apparently, Thor has other ideas. He moves quickly, yanking Quill’s pants all the way off and throwing them to the side, leaving him completely bare except for his socks. “Jeez!” Quill exclaims, propping himself up on his elbows and fixing Thor with a hard stare. “I wasn’t done yet!” Thor throws him an exasperated stare before settling between Quill’s legs. He buries his nose between Quill’s thigh and the base of his cock, inhaling briefly before running his tongue up the side of Quill’s dick.

Quill lets out an embarrassingly loud moan, clapping a hand over his mouth to try and muffle himself before Rocket hears him from the other end of the hall. Thor sucks only briefly on the head of Quill’s dick before dragging his tongue across Quill’s balls and Quill seizes so hard that his hand comes off his mouth, a horrible, guttural noise coming straight from his throat, and Thor has the audacity to laugh at him.

“Would you just fucking—!” Quill wheezes, struggling to lift his head to look down at Thor. Thor pays him no mind, grabbing Quill’s thighs with both hands and pushing his legs up into the air, holding them in place while he licks against Quill’s asshole once, as if to gauge Quill’s reaction. He must be satisfied with the way Quill arches his back and groans through clenched teeth, because he does it again, and again, and again, interrupted irregularly by Thor scraping his teeth against the inside of Quill’s thigh. Quill can’t keep it together, one hand clinging to the covers and the other coming to rest on the top of Thor’s head, feeling him move as he eats Quill out. This is a new experience for Quill, and he’s not going to pretend he doesn’t like it.

Quill exhales loudly when Thor takes his mouth off of him, propping himself up once again and looking down past his leaking cock at Thor’s flushed and focused face. “Where did you learn how to do that?” Quill breathes.

Thor sits back on his heels, a wistful look in his eyes. “Well, about six-hundred and fifty years ago—”

“Oh, shut up. Why do I even ask?” He wriggles across the bed, hanging off the edge to reach his jacket. From one of the pockets he produces a tiny, convenient bottle. If Thor thinks it's strange that Quill had been carrying lube on his person, he doesn’t say so. Quill hands it to him, watching with only slight unease as Thor slicks his fingers before turning his attention back to Quill, putting his weight on one arm so he can hover above him while he pushes his fingers inside, eliciting a sharp gasp from Quill. Thor drops his head and mouths along the side of Quill’s neck as he fingers him, using teeth and tongue where appropriate. But Quill is losing patience.

Quill holds Thor’s head in his hands, then slides them down his neck and over his shoulders, down his chest and stopping abruptly at Thor’s nipples, which he pinches, hard. Thor lets out a cry, lurching backwards, taking his finger with him. Quill follows, getting up on his knees and slinging an arm around the back of Thor’s neck, holding his head against Quill’s chest. Thor wraps his arms around Quill’s midsection, ready to throw him back down onto the bed. Quill presses his nose into Thor’s hair and Thor pauses, awaiting Quill’s next move.

“Dude, do you wax your chest? There isn’t like, a single hair—”

Thor wrestles Quill back beneath him, holding one wrist down while he sticks two fingers in Quill’s ass. “Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention,” Quill grunts.

“Of course I am,” Thor bites.

“Then hurry up and do the thing!”

Thor growls at him and Quill’s dick is completely hard again. Their mouths come crashing together, biting and licking with a fresh ferocity. Thor’s fingers push deep and he adds a third, swallowing up all of Quill’s moans until he has to pull away to get his pants off, searching frantically among the sheets for the bottle of lube and slicking his cock in order to get it inside Quill as quickly as possible. He starts pushing in, grunting with effort. Quill can see the sweat on Thor’s brow until he shuts his eyes, moaning. “You promise I can top next time?” He manages.

“If you shut up,” Thor pants, beginning to move his hips. Quill grits his teeth, unused to the feeling. He digs his nails into Thor’s back and holds on as Thor thrusts into him, burying his face in the crook of Quill’s neck. “Oh,” Thor groans, his thumb running along the shell of Quill’s ear. Quill arches upwards, trapping his dick between his stomach and Thor’s, trying to grind it against Thor’s skin while Thor fucks him, picking up speed.

Quill scrapes his blunt nails down Thor’s back, hoping to encourage him. It works, Thor putting one arm around Quill’s waist to hold him steady, breathing hard against his skin. “Oh, fuck,” Thor pants. “Quill.”

The way that Thor has angled Quill’s hips must have changed something, because Quill can no longer form coherent thoughts or words. He moans loud, completely unabashed in his current state. The bed creaks beneath them, headboard banging against the wall, and for once, Quill could care less. He’ll worry about it later.

Quill snakes one hand down to his cock, doing his best to jerk himself off in time with Thor’s thrusts, but it proves to be a challenge. Thor is fucking him harder and harder, a stream of cursing and babbling and “Quill” spilling from his mouth. Quill presses his face against the side of Thor’s head, panting and groaning and struggling to keep up. Suddenly, Thor’s thrusts become erratic, his hips stuttering. He lets out a long, uneven sound as he comes, his body tensing. Quill feels a flicker of pride that he had outlasted Thor, but quickly turns his attention to getting himself off before Thor goes boneless on top of him. He comes between them in several spurts, his spine arching and his mouth opening in a soundless cry.

Both of them are shaky, panting hard as they come down from the high. Thor catches his breath before pulling out of Quill, rolling off of him and collapsing on his side. The bed is too small for them to lie side-by-side on their backs.

Quill goes to rest his hand on his stomach, forgetting briefly about the come on him. He recoils and looks at his hand, then sighs and rests his hand there anyway. He is too wiped to care.

After a moment of silence, Quill speaks. “I lasted longer than you,” he says.

Thor scoffs. “Barely.” He throws one arm over Quill’s chest, settling against the single pillow, apparently deciding that he is going to stay the night in this room.

Quill lets his gaze go soft, adjusting to the feeling of Thor at his side. Then, after another pass of silence, “I won’t be the little spoon.”

Thor laughs, his hand coming up to pat Quill on the cheek. “Of course not, Quill,” he says. “Of course not.”


End file.
